The Seventh Stage
by Dream1n9big
Summary: One shot: It's the simplest things that can bring on the strongest of memories.


**I don't own any of these beautiful life ruining creatures, that's all under ownership of the head troll. **

_term 'head troll' coined by Sarah, the other troll._

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Mulder opened the closet door and stood rifling through his shirts, looking for something lightweight to throw on. It didn't have to look nice; he wasn't going anywhere these days anyway. Ever since he and Scully had moved into the house in the middle of nowhere, he had pretty much been living the hermit life. Not that he minded much. He was used to being alone. Before Scully he never had anyone that really cared about him enough to invest any interest in his life. What if she had never been assigned to the x-files? What then?

Mulder's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the shirt he had tried pulling off the hanger falling to the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he caught sight of a small cardboard box nestled in the corner behind an old pair of shoes. Always being one to let curiosity get the best of him, he pulled the box from its hiding place and sat down on the bed. Setting the lid aside, he peered down at the few contents that lay scattered at the bottom. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what he'd found. A tiny frog face that had begun to fade smiled at him from the front of a pacifier. There was also a yellow receiving blanket, neatly folded, and a rattle. He was drawn to a onesie that was covered in a star pattern. Bringing it to his face, he pressed the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, hoping – praying for any trace of baby powder or Johnson & Johnson's. His heart sank as he exhaled. Nothing. It was worn and musty from being in the dark all these years. He felt just like this nearly forgotten keepsake, kept away from the light, stored and hidden to ensure his survival. As he held the aged fabric in his hands he felt a surge of sadness well up in his chest.

All the thoughts and memories he had tried so desperately to tuck away in his heart came rushing back to him all at once, causing him to feel slightly dizzy. Most of the pain he felt was for Scully. She had wanted a child for so long and had tried so hard. Everything had been taken from her, and when she finally got the one thing she most hoped for, it was snatched from her, too. He didn't know how she'd done it. She had always been strong – stronger than any real human ought to be, but even after giving up the most valuable thing in her life, she continued on. Of course there were times when she'd withdraw herself, and some nights he could hear her muffled sobs as she suffocated her feelings with her pillow, but she kept going. He never bothered her in those moments.

As someone with a psychology background, he understood how the grieving process worked. He'd seen it time and time again. He'd even dealt with it himself. The first few stages are rough, the denial and the guilt (Scully blamed herself for months), but they are nothing compared to what comes later on down the road, just when you think you may be over it. Suddenly you realize – you may have won a few battles, but the war still rages on inside your head and heart.

Mulder knew Scully had to deal with her grief in her own way, but his heart ached for her. He comforted her as she dealt with the bitterness and frustration, questioning God for all she'd been through. He watched as she slipped into a depression that even he couldn't alleviate. Nothing he did helped, so he let her be, never straying far from her reach. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right, but even he wasn't sure. He hadn't gotten to spend time with William like she had. As much as he loved that baby, he didn't really know what it felt like to give him up. But even so, he himself was haunted by the questions that invaded his thoughts night after night. What did William look like now that he was becoming a young man? Did he still have his mother's eyes, or had they changed to resemble his own? He hoped it was the former. The thought of another pair of those skeptical blue eyes out there, questioning everything to find answers, made the pain a little more bearable.

Scully had finally reached that stage in the process where she started to adjust to not having William around anymore. She stopped awaking suddenly in the middle of the night because she thought she heard cries. She stopped leaving the door cracked when she went to bed. Slowly but surely she stopped doing all of the things that she didn't even realize she was still doing, and once she had reached this point, Mulder helped her through the sixth stage as well. He talked to her more, and she opened up to him, something she used to do but had lacked ever since. But as much as he wanted to believe that she had gotten through this, that maybe things wouldn't upset her the way they used to, he couldn't bring himself to accept it. He knew she was still hurting. He could see it in her eyes. The naturally bright blue eyes that could easily compete with the sky had dulled – become clouded with despair. He wanted clear skies again.

Mulder folded the onesie and placed it back inside the box before reaching for the pacifier. It was cold inside his palm. He closed his eyes and suddenly he was thinking of that night out in the woods with Scully. She had stayed with him even when she knew it was crazy. She had always been there for him. She was his human credential – the only one who ever gave his ideas a second thought, even though most of the time it took quite a bit of convincing on his part. He should have just gone to that team-building seminar, but if he had to do it over again, he would still choose a horribly cold night in the woods with her over that. He could still feel her warm arms around him and her soft, uncertain voice singing…_Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine_…

He opened his eyes when he realized he was humming, but he didn't stop. He allowed himself to finish the chorus and then heaved a heavy sigh. So this was it. This was all they had left of their son. No photos to fill an album. No baby book with meticulously categorized details. Scully would have filled one of those cover to cover, never missing a moment. She would have noted every achievement, every new word, every scratch. But no. All that was left was a worn cardboard box filled with faded memories. He wondered if Scully even remembered this was in here. Surely she did, but maybe she had forced that memory to the dusty corner of her mind just as this box had been pushed to the dark corner of the closet. He didn't have to think about it long. Being deep in his thoughts, he hadn't heard Scully come in. His whole body tensed at the mention of his name.

Mulder looked up to find Scully standing in the bedroom doorway. He was struck by how tired she looked. Her normally perfect posture was damaged by her slightly stooped shoulders, and what little makeup she wore couldn't hide the visible bags under her eyes. Yet neither of these things took away from how beautiful she was and had always been.

"Mulder," Scully said again, glancing at him expectantly as she started toward him. Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, and realizing her approach, he hurriedly tossed the pacifier in the box and slipped the lid back on. "Mulder, are you okay? What are you doing?"

His voice shook and he struggled with his words. "N-nothing, nothing. I was just cleaning out the closet." The look of concern on her face made him feel guilty, and instead of continuing with the lie, he slowly handed the box to her. He could tell by the look on her face that she knew exactly what it was, answering his question from before. Recognizing the all-too-familiar pain in her eyes as she stroked the top of the lid, he had to look away. He couldn't bear to see her like this. Before he could say anything more, he felt her soft frame as it slumped down onto the bed next to him. Finally finding the courage to face her, he turned toward her and sat silently, watching, waiting. He watched as her tiny, delicate hands lifted the lid and set it aside. He heard the barely audible sigh as she picked up the pacifier that had been thrown in hastily. Not knowing what to say, he waited, and finally, after what seemed like hours but couldn't have been but a couple of minutes, she spoke.

"Do you ever think about him?" she said aloud, in a tone that Mulder assumed made the question rhetorical. "Do you ever wonder what he's like? If he's smart? If he likes sports? If he's happy?" She turned her head towards him, her face just inches from his. Her eyes searched his own, looking for answers, the same way they always had, no matter what the question. Mulder stared right back, trying to see through to her very soul, to find the happiness that at one time had embodied her. It wasn't there, not like it should be, not like she deserved.

"Yeah, I do," he said, finally breaking the silence that hovered between them. He didn't know how much he should say. He didn't want to cause her any more heartache. It must have been enough because she pulled her gaze from him and settled it back on the box.

"I still think about him every day." She breathed deeply and her shoulders shook slightly. "I think about all the things we've missed out on not being able to raise him: the first steps, the first words, teaching him to ride a bike. Things that we laugh at parents about until we're parents ourselves and don't get to experience the same trivial things. I can't help it, Mulder. I've tried, but I can't get him out of my mind. Do you know how hard it is when his birthday rolls around every year?" With this last question she turned back to Mulder with tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill at any second. He couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his arms around her petite body and held on as she broke and sobbed into his chest.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay." His chin rested gently on top of her head and he stroked her hair softly as her sobs turned into silent tears and eventually into sniffles. This is it_, _he thought. The seventh stage. She had come to accept that William was gone, even if she wasn't over it and probably never would be. He didn't want to let go; he wanted to hold her and make her feel safe and comfort her forever, but he felt her start to pull away, so he released his grip slightly, but refused to stop holding her. Raising her head, her eyes met his and just stayed there, perhaps looking again for answers that she so desperately wanted to find, but instead, after a long silence, she leaned up and kissed him. He returned the kiss – a soft, delicate, warm affection full of compassion and love. When she broke away, she settled her head back on his chest, fitting perfectly in his embrace. "We're going to be all right, Scully. We've been battling darkness for a long time. If anyone can make it through it, it's us." She buried her head just a little deeper, and he hugged her just a little tighter, determined to keep the darkness out, if even for a moment.

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**Not even sorry.**


End file.
